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by KellerProcess



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Gabriel Has a Penis (Good Omens), Hastur Has A Vulva (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns for Gabriel, I mean Hastur smokes like an industrial plant so there's that, Light Bondage, Light Face Slapping, Light Spanking, Ligur has a penis (Good Omens), Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Smoking, also Ligur sets things on fire, and freaking out about fashion, but the implication is that all three can change their genitals whenever and to whatever they wish, consensual voyeurism, he/him pronouns for Ligur, high five, sex in exchange for information, she/her pronouns for hastur, sort of it's not really drugs but Gabriel snorts it anyway so there it is, the sex position not the gesture, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellerProcess/pseuds/KellerProcess
Summary: Michael isn't the only archangel with a back channel to hell....But Gabriel's is a hell of a lot more fun.(Birthday fic for SoManyOpenTabs. Happy Birthday :)
Relationships: Gabriel/Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Gabriel understood having a flare for the dramatic. Hell, anyone who enjoyed Versace as much as he did, couldn’t possibly _not_ understand!

What he didn’t understand, though, was having both a flare for the dramatic and for the disgusting.

Or why his informant had insisted on meeting at a motel on the outskirts of Las Vegas that somehow had both qualities. The single-story building looked as run-down as any structure in hell, its wooden doors and window frames warped, its plaster walls stained with decades of mud and pollution. Even its neon sign looked, as Sandalphon would have put it, “dodgy.”

The letters weren’t supposed to flicker like that, were they? Like they wanted to go out, and would have, if they weren’t so afraid to.

Sandalphon might’ve also called that observation “projection.” But fuck it. Gabriel wasn’t afraid of meeting his informant here, just annoyed.

Couldn’t she have at least chosen a place where the parking lot didn’t have actual _craters_?

“Good evening,” he told the young, bored-looking clerk at the front desk. “There should be a message here for Mr. Mann from Ms. La Vista.”

The clerk looked up from their smartphone and eyed him with a sour expression. “Yeah?”

“I’m Mr. Mann. And I’m here meeting her in a motel room. Just like humans do.” He smiled at them.

“Uh-huh. And I’m not the friggin’ concierge at the Marriot, pal.” They looked back down at their phone. “She’s in room six, and a word of free advice? As hookers go, you could do a helluva lot better than that. I’m pretty sure I saw something move under that wig.” They shuddered.

“She’s, um….” Gabriel held his arms out, then shrugged when an explanation wouldn’t come. “Just a very interesting … human,” he said at last.

The clerk shrugged. “Whatever yeets your football, I guess.”

Not knowing what any of that meant, Gabriel thought it best to turn and head out of the office.

Room six was kind of hard to find, because most of the numbers on the doors had fallen off. But after two empty rooms and three very hostile encounters with humans (two of whom brandished weapons at him), he found it.

Six knocks. Then six more. Then six more after that. It was bullshit, but it had been one of her nonnegotiable terms.

“Yeah,” the deep voice rumbled from inside. “Door’s unlocked, pet.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth. Calling him that had been the second nonnegotiable term. He turned the doorknob and walked inside.  
  
Hastur stood by the bed, smoking one of her usual disgusting cigarettes. As Gabriel closed the door, she smirked and sent a breath of smoke his way. An ethereal being didn’t have a gag reflex, but they certainly had a sense of smell. And the stench of that tobacco, or whatever it was—like rotting bog matter and a forest fire—made Gabriel wish he did.

“Can you maybe not do that?”

Hastur eyed him as she took in an especially long drag before blowing it toward him. “You angels,” she grumbled as she stubbed out the cigarette on the rickety table in the corner, “never any _fun_.”

“Where’s your partner?” Gabriel glanced around the room.

“Oh, he’ll be along.” Hastur flicked the butt into a corner. “Getting him and me some of that ciao-mine.”

“What?”

“Italian food,” Hastur said with a roll of her eyes. You could only tell she’d done that, though, if you looked really closely; they were like oil spills. At least, what Gabriel thought they’d look like; he hadn’t exactly paid much attention to Earth’s … grubbier parts.

“Okay. I see.” But why demons stuffed their faces with this corporeal garbage was beyond him. “Well,” he went on, clapping his hands together—a gesture that always made the conversation move forward in his experience. “What’s this news you’ve got for me?”

To a one, Hastur’s teeth ranged in color from bile-yellow to bone-gray. When she smiled at him now, far too many of them appeared. “Well,” she began, “y’see—”

Her eyes turned to the door as it screeched open with a sound that was equal parts dirt and rust. The sharpness left her smile, which faded to something softer. Not that it was really possible for a demon to _be_ soft, of course. Particularly Hastur, who was all sharp angles and sharp words. And sharp movements.

“Ligur.” Her tone wasn’t playful, because that was impossible too.

“Sorry, doll.” The second duke of hell raised a foot and nudged the door shut behind him. “Owner wanted to shut the place down for the night. Had to do a little … convincing to make them see it my way.”

“And,” Hastur said as her smile gentled even more, “how hot did that convincing get, now?”

“A few storefronts’ worth, I’d say.” Ligur’s smile was the definition of fiendish. “Maybe more. Didn’t stick around; wanted to get dinner to you before it got cold.” The lizard perched on his head decided to change color then, from a deep indigo to a soft green; Ligur’s eyes did the same. It was strange; they always did that around Hastur.

Ligur placed the takeout bag on the table as he passed it on his way to her.

“Missed you, fella,” she said as he curled his arms around her waist.

“Yeah?”

“Mh, yeah.”

“Give us a kiss, then.”

Only they did much, much more than just kiss. By the time Hastur had her legs looped around Ligur’s thick waist, Gabriel wondered if he should clear his throat, or just step outside for a moment. The scene was making him feel all twisted up inside, but not in a way that felt exactly painful or disquieted. He’d never really paid much attention to Hastur’s husband—at least not in this way. The two had a reputation for being inseparable to a ridiculous degree, but he’d never actually watched them fuck before.

Was this really how the evening was going to start?

“But we can’t be rude to Gabriel, now can we?” Hastur murmured, giving Gabriel his answer as she uncurled from her partner.

“’Course not, pet.” Ligur pecked her cheek, then turned to Gabriel. His own smile was subtler than the guillotine blade Hastur’s mouth had become, but it was no less unsettling.

“Gabriel.”

“Ligur,” he acknowledged.

Ligur’s gaze moved down Gabriel’s body, and the lizard shifted into a brilliant scarlet. It always did that during these meetings, and the effect would have unnerved Gabriel if it hadn’t confused him so deeply, along with giving him feel that twisty feeling again.

“Well,” he pressed on when the silence got a little too long. “I’m here. Yep. All the way here. America. Las Vegas.” When neither duke had anything to say to that, he looked from Ligur to Hastur. “Well,” he repeated, “is there a reason for the change of venue? Or…?”

“Oh. Yeah. Definitely a reason,” Hastur said as she reached into her tatted mackintosh and fumbled around. Frowning, she pulled out an empty cigarette packet and tossed it onto the table. “Fuckin’ things,” she muttered at Ligur, “always run out when you least expect ’em too.”

“If we could _please_ ”—Gabriel softened his scowl into a polite frown as the dukes turned their attention back to him—“please keep to the matter at hand. Can I assume there’s a reason for this change of venue that isn’t just fucking with me?”

“That’s right,” Hastur drawled as Ligur produced a carton of cigarettes from his own leather coat. “Ta, love,” she said as she accepted one and lit it with a handful of hellfire.

“And?” Gabriel asked as she inhaled. “Are you just going to blow smoke in my face or—”

And of course she did. “This place. It’s also called Sin City, innit?”

“Must be a lot of fun,” Ligur explained.

“Me and Ligur here, we’ve always wanted to see a city called that, haven’t we, love?”

“That’s right. It’s on our fuck-it list. Or whatever it’s called.” Ligur took his turn with the cigarette.

_What the fuck?_

“Meaning,” Hastur went on, before Gabriel could ask that very question, “we’ve only got a short time left to do just that.”

“Might as well do it tonight.” Ligur grinned.

“Seeing as our fuck-it list is very long.”

“For a pair of demons.”

“Yeah. And seeing as we’ve only got eleven years to fuck it all.”

As the two spoke one after the other, like actors in a play, Gabriel had decided the dukes were simply in this disgusting city to tempt, torment, and fuck each other cross-eyed during all that tempting and tormenting. Just as they usually did. Only this time, they wanted to drag him down here just to make a fool out of him. Well, no one did that, no matter how valuable they were to heaven!

But that last comment stopped him before he could storm to the door.

Eleven years.

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Hastur intoned knowingly.

“You’re shitting me.”

“No,” Ligur added in the same sepulchral timbre.

Gabriel blinked. Blinked again. “You’re serious. Absolutely serious.”

“Yes.” They spoke as one now.

“He was born just a few hours ago at the hospital run by the Sisters of the Chattering order of St. Beryl.” Hastur’s lips twitched into a cruel smile. “That ciao-mine restaurant wasn’t the only thing we burned down tonight, let’s just say.”

“After the antichrist was born, of course.”

“Yeah. Loose ends need tyin’.” Hastur took another drag on the cigarette and passed the remainder back to Ligur. “We tied ’em.”

“And….” Gabriel tried to choose his words carefully. Pissing off an asset like this would be a colossally bad idea, especially with that two-ton info bomb said asset had just dropped was the real deal. “And you’ve got proof of this, I take it?”

“What,” Hastur scoffed, “you want someone’s heart in a box? ’Course you do, you angels. So distrustin’.” She reached into her coat again.

_Not another fucking cigarette. What is it with her and those things?_

“Figured you’d want to see it for yourself,” Hastur said as she removed a small plastic bag filled with what looked like powdered urine.

Sulfur. Gabriel snorted. He didn’t know what he’d expected. The infernal equivalent of stardust—or CCTV, or whatever name humans had for their recording devices these days. Demons lied, all the time, but even liars needed to tell each other the truth sometimes. Sulfur had been hell’s answer to the problem. Whether you needed to relay an event as it happened or send a demon instructions, sulfur was the best way. It could be eaten, inhaled, or burned into smoke, and it couldn’t be tampered with or corrupted.

But that didn’t mean Gabriel wanted anything to do with the filthy stuff.

“And you think I’m going to do what with that, exactly?”

“Well, snort if, of course,” Hastur said as if that would be the most obvious thing in the universe, if only Gabriel wasn’t so stupid. “You know how to do that, yeah? Oh, no,” she purred, yanking it back as he stepped toward her to take it. “No, you’re not taking a polite little sniff from your palm, archangel. Here in Vegas, they’ve got a fancy way of doing things like this.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes as Hastur started unfastening her mackintosh. “After,” he snapped, because whether or not he pissed off an asset, this was just getting fucking ridiculous. “You get your payment _after_ , Hastur. _Not_ before.”

“Not asking for payment yet, now am I?” Hastur shrugged out of her coat and tossed it to Ligur, who caught it and raised it to his nose with a little murmur of pleasure. “No, what I’m askin’,” she continued as she started with the buttons of the dress shirt underneath, which had seen far crisper and whiter days. “No, oh no. What you’re gonna do, precious, is snort this stuff off my tits.”

“Oh for—” But Gabriel bit off his complaint as Hastur loosened her tie from its—surprisingly neat—windsor knot and dropped it to the floor, followed seconds later by her shirt.

It was hard to remember what you were talking about when you were looking at a body like the one standing before him now.

In the chambers of hell, and even in some of the lower halls of heaven, ethereal beings spoke Hastur’s name only when they had to, and only in softest of whispers, looking over their shoulders as though she might materialize and discorporate them—or worse—with a fiery punch to the gut. Their fears weren’t unwarranted; in addition to being one the most violent of hell’s heavy-hitters, Hastur was also one of the strongest and most merciless.

But you wouldn’t have known that just by looking at her body from the shoulders on down. Oh, she was as bony as a rake, but her stomach somehow hadn’t gotten the memo. It was soft and slightly curved, like a pouch that had been stuffed a bit overenthusiastically. The rest of her chest hadn’t gotten the memo either; her pectorals were small and firm, but soft enough to cup in a hand and tease—

“Yeah,” Hastur said with a cheeky wink as she walked backward to the bed, beckoning at him. “These get him every time, don’t they?” she asked, lifting her pecs and squeezing them together as best she could.

“Can’t blame him,” Ligur murmured as he settled into one of the room’s battered chairs, where he proceeded to open his own coat and reach for his belt.

“What?” Hastur asked as Gabriel shot him a glare. “Just because we ain’t starting yet doesn’t mean he’s got to wait for a wank, does it?”

No, it didn’t. Damn it.

Gabriel took off his oxfords and joined Hastur in bed. When he made no move to take off his jacket, Hastur shrugged and settled back against the pillows (the origins of which Gabriel didn’t even want to think about.) She opened the bag, then poured the contents over her chest.

It shouldn’t have been nearly that attractive with that freckling of warts. 

“Be sure you get all of it, pet,” she said as she parted her legs.

“With a sulfur record this long and complex, you won’t see all of it unless you do,” Ligur said helpfully, though that toothy smile said he knew damned well he was being anything but helpful.

Gabriel gave the duke his back as he crawled between Hastur’s legs and leaned over her chest.

“No funny business now.”

Ignoring Hastur’s singsonging, Gabriel leaned in and ran his nose through the stuff. Fuck, it felt like breathing in broken glass and razor blades—not that he knew what either of those were like, of course, but he could imagine.

“Coward.” Rough, thin fingers grabbed him by the hair and shoved his head down.

And Gabriel breathed and breathed, taking in the burning, rotted scent of sulfur and the boggy, mossy smell beneath that was her mottled skin—

_Hastur striding down a dim hallway, weaving and turning through a crowd of shambling demons._

_“Hate this thing.” Adjusting her wig._

_Shifting down to a basket. Cradled in strong arms. Black leather._

Ligur. I’m seeing through Ligur’s eyes.

(Of course. Someone would have to be documenting Hastur’s actions.)

_A soft little burble from the basket. Almost fussy._

_“Aw.” Ligur adjusts the basket. Opens the top. Two thick fingers stroking a soft cheek. “Cute little thing.”_

_“Nothing like his master.” She glances over her shoulder. Softness in those black eyes?_

No. Of course not. Demons aren’t like that. Can’t be like that.

_“Yeah. Must be the human in him.”_

_A happy little sigh from the baby. Only then does Ligur move his hand away._

_“You ever thought—”_

_“Hm?”_

_“Nah, nothin’.” Hastur’s voice is soft too._

Also not possible.

_“Just, you know. Cute,” she continues._

_“Hey, if our master can have one, it’s not impossible.”_

Ligur’s voice is soft too. Also not possible.

_“Hm. Maybe after we win, yeah?”_

_“That’s my girl.”_

_Silence then._

_Up a long staircase._

_Up through dirt. Worms. Cemetery loam._

_Up into a London night._

_Waiting. Sharing a cigarette._

_Headlights. A black car._

_He knows who gets out. Would know that swagger anywhere._

Crowley. I don’t like him. It’s not the clothes. He’s got good taste. Maybe on the cheap side; not very professional. He’d look better in Dolce and Gabbana than … whatever that is. Casual Dolce and Gabbana. Blvgari sunglasses? Shoes? Well. The snakeskin is nice. Sort of. If you like that kind of thing.

Focus.

This isn’t Fashion Week.

_Not that it mattered. Just a lot of talking here. Something about priests. Human cell phones. Usual demon chatter._

_Ligur hands off the basket._

_Crowley saunters off._

_“Well.” Hastur now. “That’s that, yeah?”_

_A strong hand on her arm._

_“He’ll be fine, doll. Everyone’ll make sure of it.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Silence for a long time. Ligur just holding her arm._

_“Well, all right, then.” She turns to him, leans in ’til her face is big. Eyes one dark blur._

_No picture after that. Just darkness._

_“Mhh, fella. Gettin’ fresh with me?” Said between kisses. Just a little flash of moonlight or two when she pulls back to do it again._

_“Our favorite lurkin’ grounds, isn’t it? Gets me in the mood here. All these memories of temptations.”_

_“Contracts signed.”_

_“Sealed.”_

_“Mh, collected upon.”_

_“All those discorporations.”_

_“And copse-porations.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“You know. Like a discorporation for humans.”_

_“Oh. Mhh. Yeah.”_

_“Oh, fella. That_ is _nice. What you’re doing down there.”_

_“That mausoleum, southwest corner?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Lots of jerking and stumbling then. Branches. Treetops. Loam and leaves (“Ow.”; “You okay there?”; “Yeah.”). Black sky._

_Hastur shoved against a cracked marble wall. Her clothes coming off._ (Miracled?)

_She lunges for him with a growl. Chest shoved against Ligur’s face. “Oh!”_

_The ground again._

_“Mh, baby. Gonna discorporate me if you keep pouncing on me like that.”_

_“Couldn’t have that, mh, now could we? Love this body. Love_ you _.”_

_“Fuck, those hands of yours…. Oh!”_

_“Can’t help it when you look so appetizing, doll. Let’s get that coat off you.”_

_Tumbling over and over. More clothes every which way._

_“Yeah.”_

_Hastur beneath him, throwing her head back. Wig long since gone. Frog missing in action._

_“Oh!”_

_Hastur on top of him, bouncing, head thrown back again, this time in a howl._

_The ground again. Panting._

_“Yeah, fella. Yeah. Take my fat cock.”_

_“Fuck, Hastur. Mh.”_

_“Like it, don’t you, when I make_ you _beg for it. Shove it up_ your _hot little cunt this time.”_

_Deeper groaning this time. Those little slips of moonlight coming in and out again._

_How long can demons fuck, anyway?_

“Hours, angel!”

“Days if we want. My and Hastur’s record is … what was it?”

“Three days, I think. Stopped for a kip or two. A good smoke when we needed one.”

_How is it they’re talking to me if this is a recording?_

“Because this isn’t part of the recording, now is it?” Ligur said.

“You’re talking out loud to us, silly angel!”

_Oh._

_All right. Okay._

_Fuck, her back looks good. All thin and pale, those green bumps…._

_I’ve never seen her back before. So kissable._

“Why, thank you, Gabriel! That’s very kind.”

_Okay. No more thinking now … talking … whatever._

“Well, if you like. Too bad, though.”  
  
  


_More fucking._

_Clothes back on._

_Traveling through hell again. All those glassy-eyed demons stumbling along._

_Boring shit. Didn’t matter._

_At least not ’til lightning Hastur killed one of the nuns standing in front of her and everything caught on fire._

_Yeah … that mattered._

_So did that crack of lightning. Orange lightning._

Was that from someone above? Sandalphon, maybe? Always had a taste for destruction.

Couldn’t be, though. Nah.

_Hastur cackling until she staggered. High-pitched and cruel—_

_Finally dying down like thunder rolling away._

_“Ahh,” she giggled, running a hand through her wig. “What a_ lovely _way to end an evening.” She brought out that same package of cigarettes and tapped one out._

_“You got that all, love?” she asked as she lit it with a fistful of hellfire._

_“Every tasty little bit.”_

_Jostling and bouncing toward her._

_“Good.” Hastur grinned and raised her left hand, looking right into Ligur’s eyes. “There you go, Archangel,” she said with a little wave. “Proof enough for you?”_

_She blew him a kiss, and the image rushed back, smaller, smaller—_

Gabriel’s head jerked up in a gasp that ended in a long, loud cough of bitter, four-smelling, grainy sulfur.

“Fuck,” he groaned, scrubbing at his nose. It felt too full, too hot—

“Easy now.” Ligur’s voice. Two strong hands on his shoulders, kneading, pulling him back. Gentle. Surprising. “Strong stuff, even for an archangel.”

“Hghng.” Gabriel wasn’t sure if that was a protest, an agreement, or just an acknowledgment, but he was too busy sneezing out the grit to care, so whatever.

“There we go. That’s right. Mh. Get it all out of you. Hastur, be a love and scoot that pretty little arse back, won’t you? Let him have a little lie-down.”

The thin legs caging him were suddenly not there anymore, but Ligur’s warm hands were, and they were tilting him onto his side.

“There we go,” he repeated. “That’s a good angel now. Just rest ’til your head’s cleared.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gabriel murmured, running his hand through his hair. Disheveled. Well that was just fucking great. And right before he did something that gave it every right to be disheveled.

One more big, deep cough and that was the last of it. His throat felt less like he’d swallowed sand. And now he could do what angels did whenever they had to suck in the stuff: sleep it off. Not very dignified, but that was the price you paid for intel.

One of the prices he paid for this intel, anyway.

One thing was for sure, though: the dukes were telling the truth.

The countdown to Armageddon had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel’s eyelids fluttered open as a serrated, deep groan rolled through the room.

Only that was coming from him, wasn’t it?

He closed them again. His head was clear, but his throat felt like a desert. Lord, he hated sulfur. Having to use it three times in his long existence was about fifteen times too many.

“Wakey-wakey eggs and something,” Hastur said from beside him.

This time, that groan was one of frustration. “How long was I—”

“Oh, ’bout, what? Twenty minutes, maybe? Twenty-one? Two? Long enough for me and Ligur to eat that ciao-mine.”

“And then for me to eat her.” Ligur chuckled. “Tasted far better, if you ask me.”

The hand that traced the contour of his side, then his waist, then his hip was so steady and strong and—

No, that wasn’t right. Hastur’s hands were bony and as fragile as a spider’s legs. Not—

Hastur smiled at Gabriel as he blinked his eyes open—then let them move down her body, from her bald, ridged head—wigless and frogless now—to her long, lean, bare body. Right to the tangled blond tuft on her mound.

Hastur cupped his chin and lifted. “My eyes’re up here, pretty. Nice to see you’re so eager to pay me, though.” She peered over Gabriel’s shoulder. “Don’t you think so, love?”

“You usually have to strip off for him to get that kind of reaction,” Ligur said as the mattress dipped, the headboard thunking hollowly against the wall as he sat up.

Gabriel followed her gaze with his head, then his shoulders, then his chest and hip and—

“Ah!”

And then crashed into Ligur’s broad chest, which rumbled with laughter as those firm hands stroked up his back.

His broad and very _bare_ chest.

Which should _not_ be so very bare right now.

Gabriel wriggled away from him, only to bump an elbow right into Hastur’s soft and equally bare stomach.

“Now, now,” she murmured in his ear, “is that any way to treat such a nice demon as him, shrieking and squirming away like he’s gonna bite you?” Gabriel swallowed as she slithered closer, pressing her mons against his rear. “Not that he won’t, mind you.”

“The agreement.” Gabriel swallowed as she slowly rubbed herself against him. “This isn’t the agreement, Hastur. You give me information, then we fuck. That’s the deal. He’s never part of it. The fact I even let him start watching was —”

“Oh, come off it, pet,” she laughed as she nibbled along his ear, “you didn’t actually argue when he asked that first time.”

“Didn’t have to do that,” Ligur said helpfully. “Could’ve told me to fuck off ’til you two were done.” Gabriel tried not to look at anything but his eyes as he scooted closer. Not that it helped, though; they were that deep shade of red again—even though his lizard was missing, just like Hastur’s frog—and Gabriel now had an inkling about what that color meant.

“So respectful like that, love,” Hastur cooed.

“Yeah.” He winked at Gabriel. “Don’t need to watch my gal’s every move to know who she wants best. But you like it when I’m here, don’t you, angel?”

“Cut the bullshit, Ligur.” But the moment he said those words, Gabriel knew he didn’t believe them.

Ligur’s eyes turned even redder. “The angel protests too much, I think.”

“That means,” Hastur said as she slid her hand down Gabriel’s shirtfront, “we both know you’re full of it. Not that it really matters, though. Maybe the deal was only me and you in bed, but I’ve given you some real juicy intel tonight, haven’t I?”

“The juiciest,” Ligur agreed, scooting back as Hastur sat up.

“So I think you should pay a little more for it this time, Gabriel, don’t you?”

“Like hell I’m going to—”

“Oh, I think you like hell a lot more than you let on.” She gave his shoulder a good shove. “Sit up now. Time to get your things off.”

Some demons didn’t take no for an answer. Some, like incubi, didn’t even seem to understand the concept—both of the word _no_ and of answers in general. Hastur, however, hadn’t yanked him into the position she wanted—though she’d have had no trouble doing so. Ligur, meanwhile, was still watching Gabriel with those lustful red eyes—but he’d moved onto the chair by the bathroom door to do so.

It didn’t change the fact he’d taken his shirt off for an unapproved cuddle, but … well, demons of any rank, serving any sin, _were_ tempters, after all.

“Look at him,” Hastur murmured from behind Gabriel as she ran her hands over his shoulders. “Isn’t my partner the beautifulest thing?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“Doesn’t he have the nicest hands?”

Gabriel didn’t look at them.

“The strongest body you’ve ever seen?”

Gabriel wouldn’t look at it.

“Such a nice chest too.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but glance at it—just for a moment. But that moment was long enough for Ligur to grin at him.

“Mh, there we go.” Hastur pressed herself against his back as she reached around his neck. Her long fingers teased down to the knot on his tie, which they opened with balls-aching slowness. “D’you know, love? I think our angel here likes you more than he’s letting on, if you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”

“Hard to miss, isn’t it?” Ligur winked at him, and now Gabriel was definitely looking at more than just his eyes. And definitely not pretending he wasn’t when Ligur caught him this time. Or when the duke’s gaze moved right to the spot Hastur’s hand was now cupping with pressure that was equally balls-aching.

“Come on now,” Hastur tempted, nibbling on his ear again, “you’ve already fucked one demon. Been fuckin’ her for centuries now, even. What’s adding another, then? Can’t sully your virtue any more than you’ve sullied it, surely.”

And then that hand started moving.

“That’s right,” she said as Gabriel shuddered against her. “It’s all a trade, yeah? I give you hell’s best-kept secrets; you give me that angelic body of yours to put my hands all over—and you give my fella here a show so he can put his hands all over _my_ body after.”

Ligur smirked and nodded. “And my hands on myself while she’s having her fun,” he observed as Hastur unbuttoned Gabriel’s trousers.

“That’s right. See? Tonight, we all get what we want—twice.”

Gabriel bit back a moan as she pulled down his zipper, then dipped her hand inside. “I like tattling on my betters. Fuck the Dark Council. We Fell to get away from all that mess Upstairs, and what’d they do? Made the same hash of things.”

“Except worse,” Ligur agreed.

“These satin, by the way?” It was hard to think with her moving her hand like that. “ _Feels_ like satin, anyway. You dirty little angel.” Gabriel’s breath hitched as she nipped his earlobe again. “But that proves it, yeah? Me and Ligur here, we like giving you all the sensitive intel; and you like spreading your legs to get it.”

“So why not spread your legs for both of us?” Ligur asked, leaning forward in his chair. “I like the way you moan when Hastur here’s got her hands on you. Bet you’d moan even better with two of us all over you.”

“Would you like that?” Hastur’s hand was inside his briefs now, teasing his ever-hardening length. “You eating out my pussy while he fucks your tight little arse? Unless you’d like to effort something _else_ for him to fuck.”

“Not that I dislike that cock you usually have.”

“Hm. ’Course not, love. Well, pet? Night’s wasting away here.”

“Yes.” He shouldn’t have, really. Fucking one demon was bad enough.

_But fucking two demons is better._

“You’ll need to be more specific, I’m afraid,” Ligur said as he stood and walked toward the bed. “Yes, you want her to undress you?”

“Yes, you want us _both_ to undress you?”

“Yes, you want her to fuck you?”

“Yes, you want him to fuck you?”

The stimulation was just too much. His cock was already wet, and Hastur’s other hand was teasing at his chest while she nibbled everywhere, down his neck and back up, and to his ear—

With a little shuddering cry, he soaked her fingers.

“Yes,” he whimpered. “Yes. Yes. All of it.”

Hastur chuckled in triumph against his neck before withdrawing her hand. “Mhh. It’s like I’ve always told you, Gabriel: angel come’s got nothing on sugar. No wonder they call it ambrosia.”

And of course she made sure to suck it from her fingers as loudly and messily as possible. Just like always.

“Damn it,” Gabriel said as she started gnawing on his neck again, “I said yes. Stop teasing me and just fu—”

“All right, all right, you mardy bum. Heard you the first time. Ligur?”

Gabriel was leaning back against her—and then he wasn’t. Hastur was simply gone—

_Did she just miracle herself off the—_

And he was falling—

Ligur slammed him against the mattress before gravity did.

“Now aren’t you a pretty gift?” His eyes were the reddest things Gabriel had ever seen, and that kiss was so fierce that Gabriel’s feet shook and twisted.

“Pretty gifts are meant to be unwrapped,” Hastur observed. She now stood behind her partner, watching Gabriel just as intently, even as she lowered her head to tease Ligur’s ear this time. “How about you do the unwrapping tonight.”

“Always give me the best presents, doll.”

Hastur paused with the tip of her tongue against the curve of Ligur’s ear. “Tearing off the paper’s the best part.” The whisper was intentionally loud enough for Gabriel to hear, he was sure of it.

_Wait._

“This is a Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition!” The dukes of hell looked at each other in confusion. “Bespoke!” Gabriel pleaded.

“Guess that means it’s important,” Ligur concluded. Hastur nodded; apparently that was enough of an explanation for her.

“You can’t!” Gabriel cried as Ligur grabbed his lapels. “It’s—it’s—”

“It’s tissue paper.” And Ligur tore his jacket from him.

“Tears just like it,” Hastur observed as he tossed it to her. She raised it to her nose and breathed in, just as Ligur had done earlier with her discarded mackintosh. “Mh, heavenly. Not as good as that sweet come, though.” She tossed the ruined jacket— _Ruined! Good_ Lord _!_ —into one of the room’s filthy corners. “Can smell your all over it.”

Ligur’s nostrils flared in appreciation just before he tore Gabriel’s shirt apart. “And the arousal,” he observed through the rain of buttons.

This time, when Ligur put his hands on Gabriel, Gabriel arched into his touch. As those strong, calloused thumbs worked his nipples in circles, he nearly jackknifed right up against something very hard and good.

Hastur’s thumbs were doing the same thing to Ligur’s nipples as she leaned down against him, peering over his shoulder with a look that was far more menacing than lustful—which only made Gabriel ache more.

“Look at you, pet. So angelic, so pious and clean Upstairs, when you’re givin’ orders. But just get you half-naked under a demon or two, and look what happens.”

“You open your legs faster than a succubus on the prowl.”

“Now just—” Gabriel lost the rest of the sentence as Ligur’s knee ground against his cock.

“Not so pristine and virtuous down here in the dirt, are you?” Hastur laughed.

She was straddling his face before Gabriel realized the space behind Ligur was empty now.

“He’s gonna get the rest of that worthless suit off you now,” she said as she straddled his face, giving him a great view of her wet labia. “But don’t worry, pet. You won’t be bored while he works.”

Her pussy smashed against his mouth before Gabriel could even think of what to say.

“Here’s just a taste of what’s to come.” Hastur’s thighs shook with the giggle that crackled from her throat. “Heh. _Taste!_ Now there’s a good one.”

“Always did love your sense of humor, doll.”

At least that’s what Gabriel thought Ligur said. Hastur’s pussy was everywhere, making it hard to think. That smell—muddy water and dark, forbidden loam. He had to taste, had to explore, press his tongue in farther, farther—

Hastur hissed like a serpent. “That’s right. Ohh! That’s good, b-but you can do better—ah.”

“Find her clit,” Ligur instructed. The clatter of a buckle, and Gabriel’s trousers loosened around his hips, brushing against the beginning of a second erection. “Get her nice and wet. Make her scream for me.”

“And you say you’re not a lust demon,” Hastur teased as she ground against Gabriel’s mouth. “A—h, fuck it, Gabriel! To the _left_. It’s to the left. Bless it. Here.” She shifted her weight in that direction. “I tell you, acts like we haven’t fucked a single time in the last ten years.”

“Hmm, that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” Gabriel shivered as his trousers tore from his legs, and the cold air slapped against them. “Seein’ as it’s only been, what, four months?”

“Yeah. That flat we had in, where was it? Oh, yeah. That one neighborhood. You know, with all the stealing and those loud sirens. Fucked you ’til you screamed then, didn’t I, pet?”

“That cock you efforted for him.” That was the first time Gabriel had ever heard a shiver in Ligur’s voice.

“No worries, love. I’ll dick you down with it again soon enough.”

“Good girl.”

When had Ligur removed his briefs, not to mention his shoes and socks—and where? Fuck, it didn’t matter. She was so rich and warm and there—there it was. Her clit was as hard and flat as a stone, and by now, so was he.

Hastur shrieked and nearly rocked back onto his forehead as Gabriel speared right for it, and oh, she tasted just as good as she smelled. So dark and dirty and there, just a hint of something sweet and rich and strange and nothing, he was sure, like the come of angels—

“Bad angel.” Her effort smashed against his mouth. “Had to drink it all, didn’t you?”

Ligur tsked. “No patience.”

Gabriel hmphed. _You were the one wiggling around and giving orders._ And just for that, he lashed his tongue inside her again.

“Ah. You _bas_ tard! No self- _restraint_.” Hastur ground down against his face again.

“Just for that, I shouldn’t give him that hand-fuck he’s panting for.”

“Blessed _right_ you shouldn’t!”

 _Yeah, like he won’t._ Gabriel gave her another poke to let her know he was on to them.

“Now you _stop that_ ,” she shrieked. “Ohhh! Now you’ve gone and done it!”

“Seems you’ve upset my bird,” Ligur drawled. “That gets a punishment.”

Hastur lifted off Gabriel’s face as Ligur grabbed his hips and pulled. Gabriel barely had time to squawk out a protest before he was rolled over onto his stomach.

“Hands and knees, angel,” Ligur said as he yanked Gabriel’s hips higher, forcing him into position.

“All right already! No need to be rough again.”

“Oh, but he does,” Hastur said as she settled onto her back in front of Gabriel, sliding her legs beneath him. “Like he said, this is your punishment for misbehavior. Don’t worry, though. It’ll be a nice one.” She patted his cheek before resting back on her forearms. “Lean on my knees, pet. He’s got you.”

Ligur made a noise of agreement as he patted Gabriel’s ass, then returned his hand to Gabriel’s hip. The gesture was meant to be reassuring, and for the most part, it had that effect.

“Good,” Hastur said as Gabriel leaned over her raised knees. “Brace on your elbows now; tight against my hips. There you go. Now, you’re gonna go down on me again.”

“Only this time, you’ll do as you’re told, when you’re told.” Another squeeze around his hips, even tighter this time. “Or I’ll stop railing you.”

“And when he starts, oh let me tell you, pet. You won’t want him to stop.”

That was probably true, damn it. Of course, Hastur probably knew what he was thinking anyway: that he loved being fucked. Though she didn’t prefer to do so, she had efforted a cock more than just that one time in that dingy, fetid little apartment—and used it hard and deep and long enough to make Gabriel’s ass hurt for days after. Which was surprising, since that should have been impossible.

“Oi!” Hastur slapped his cheek. “You gonna lick your lips all night, or you gonna lick something worthwhile?”

Gabriel shot her a scowl that got another warning slap. But he leaned down and dragged his tongue across her slit.

“Yeah,” Hastur growled as she spread her thighs just a bit wider to give him better access. “Yeah, pet, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“You better not make her come ’til she says so. Or come before _I_ say so. She’s gonna get what she paid for.”

“What _we_ paid for, love,” Hastur raised her head to smile at him. “Hey! Who told you to stop, you brat? Get your tongue in my cunt and keep it there!”

Gabriel lowered his head again to taste her.

“Fuckin’ _finally_.” Hastur’s hand tangled in his hair and tugged, but not hard enough to really hurt. Neither did Ligur’s grip as it pulled him open, or his slick finger as it circled Gabriel’s ring—far slicker than Hastur’s had ever been.

“He’s getting you nice and ready because he’s nicer than me,” Hastur informed him, as though she knew exactly what her partner was doing even though she wasn’t looking at him. But of course she would; no one in creation had been married as long as these two had.

“But don’t get any funny ideas about me going easy on you,” Ligur said, and Gabriel took in a shallow breath as he pushed that finger forward.

Hastur was right; he wasn’t used to this at all. Usually when paying her for intel, he ended up with his face between her legs, or his cock in her pussy, or occasionally in her other hole—all while Ligur looked on, furiously jerking off while his red eyes followed every movement—the thrust of a pelvis, the arch of a back, or the tilt of a head. Consequently, Gabriel couldn’t help but tense from head to back to pelvis as that finger pushed into him, pulled out, pushed in again.

“Relax,” Ligur breathed against his ear. “Not gonna tear you open—not this time, anyway.” When Gabriel tensed at his words, Ligur chuckled and pecked his ear. “Come on, now. Just concentrate on getting my best girl worked up again.”

The push of a second finger would’ve made Gabriel cry out. As it was, Hastur shoved his head flush against her labia, taking the scream from him.

“Chickenshit,” she teased. “C’mon, love. Say you’re about done back there.”

“Remember that saying about patience, now.”

“What, that it’s the worst virtue of all? Couldn’t agree more.”

“Mouthy little thing. Now what _am_ I gonna do about that?”

“Dunno about the long-term, lover. Best way for the short-term, though? Put a cock in him and see how fast his tongue shuts me up.”

“Hope you heed that, angel.” Ligur’s fingers moved faster now, and Gabriel needed to miracle himself still to keep from butting Hastur’s stomach with his forehead. He was thankful he’d had the foresight to do that when Ligur’s cock pushed into him seconds later.

Hastur shook beneath him, nearly kneeing him in the chest. “Yes, lover, _yes_! _That’s_ the stuff.”

Another thing to be thankful for: the fact he didn’t need to breathe. If he did, Hastur would’ve discorporated him by now with how hard she kept shoving his face into her pussy. Not that he’d let her win. Every time she ground his head against her, Gabriel shoved his tongue in deeper—far deeper than it should have been able to go in a humanlike corporation like his. Doing that made him feel more than a bit like a snake, which was really, really unfortunate. But Hastur wasn’t going to get away with treating him like a sex toy.

Not that he didn’t feel like one with the way Ligur was thrusting into him. It had started out slow and shallow, but when Gabriel hadn’t cried out, Ligur stopped being so gentle. His movements were faster and deeper now, but not careless, not punishing. More like walking the line of pleasurable and painful with flawless balance.

And fuck, the way Ligur ground into him was making Gabriel’s cock _ache_.

“B-better not come before she tells you so,” Ligur cautioned before pulling out and slapping his ass. “Or you won’t get this anymore.

Gabriel screamed into her pussy as Ligur slammed into him so hard that the duke’s pelvis bumped against his ass.

“You should listen to him, pet,” Hastur advised. When Gabriel glanced up, her eyes were black slits as she plucked at her pale pink-gray nipples.”

“Ggh hng hggh,” Gabriel told her, poking her in the hip.

“Oh-ho. Hear that, fella? I think he just told us to go to hell.”

“Angels,” Ligur grunted as his pelvis smacked Gabriel again.

“Funniest ideas, ha-haven’t they? Oh, fuck, pet. That’s nice. Do it again. Go on. Do it!” she said, yanking his hair when he didn’t comply. “I want it now. Make me come, you filthy little—”

Gabriel beat his tongue against her clitoris as hard as he could: swirl, thrust, nudge; swirl, thrust, nudge—

“You little sh—”

He shoved his nose against it while thrusting his tongue as far as he could—

“Oh fuck me!”

And there was that sweet, dark flood again. He licked and licked, not sure he could take it all; wanting to see if he could, nonetheless.

And somehow, though only the Lord knew how, the taste of her, the feel of her, the hand yanking his hair, the mossy, autumnal scent and the lock of her legs—

Somehow, he enjoyed it all while his prick stayed hard.

“He can come! He can come,” Hastur shouted. “Fuck, Ligur! Make him come!”

“Always so hungry for it,” Ligur said with a chuckle.

“Ligur!”

“Okay, okay,” Ligur chuckled. “You heard the lady; come for her like a good angel now.”

Still laughing, Ligur thrust into Gabriel a few more times, striking a spot that made Gabriel cry out and finally, finally, drench his own thighs, the sheets beneath him, but not—not Hastur, and he’d hoped to mess up the backs of her thighs just as bad as he’d messed up his own.

But then Ligur’s orgasm tore into him in a long, deep thrust that ended on an even deeper moan. That and the way he dug his hands into Gabriel’s hips made a Satan-damned sexual miracle happen: and this time, Gabriel threw back his head, grabbed his cock, and managed to cover Hastur with at least half his load.

“Fuck,” he moaned then, collapsing into her bony arms. “Fuck. _Fuck. Me_.”

“Just did that, didn’t I?” Ligur murmured from behind him as he pulled Gabriel off her. “And now I’ve crossed that off our fuck-it list, I’m gonna see if you kiss as good as she says.”

Instead of waiting for him to attack, Gabriel turned around and grabbed Ligur by the shoulders, hurling them both to the mattress. They landed on their sides, their heads making contact with pillows that—thank the Lord—actually smelled clean despite their dingy appearance.

“Oof! Well, hello there.”

“Hey,” Gabriel said with a wink just before he pulled Ligur into a mouth-crushing kiss.

“Well, heaven’s sake, love,” Hastur said as she crawled over. “If I’d’ve known your cock would’ve made our angel this sex-hungry, I’d’ve asked you to dick him down centuries ago.”

“Mhh,” Ligur agreed as he cupped Gabriel’s cheek and worked his tongue into Gabriel’s mouth, “can taste both of you on him, doll,” he said before going in for another mind-bending kiss. Somehow, Gabriel’s legs ended up twined through Ligur’s shorter, more muscular ones.

“Good.” And then Hastur’s arms was locked around his chest as she pressed up against his back. The come on her chest was still warm—warmer than it had been just a few minutes ago. Maybe demons were just like that—hot from the inside out.

“Wanna know a secret, pet?” And she was back to kissing and nibbling at his neck and ears, flicking his nipple, then Ligur’s, then back again.

“Oh here it comes.” Ligur grinned against Gabriel’s mouth.

“What secret?” Had Gabriel actually heard that, or was he so delirious he was imagining things?

“Prince Beelzebub is gonna give us a gift. ‘For services below and beyond the call of duty.’ That’s a direct quote.” A particularly feisty nip to his ear had Gabriel shivering. “D’you know why we call you pet so much?”

“To piss me off.”

Hastur tittered. “Funny. But no. Well, not _just_ for that reason. It’s because, when we win the war—”

“Not that you’re going to—”

That got him a particularly hard nip to the earlobe. “ _When we win_ , me and Ligur get to keep you.”

“Our own personal plaything.”

“Forever,” Hastur whispered as Ligur kissed Gabriel again. “Won’t that be fun, angel? Think of it, now: you’d get this every day. His dick up your arse—”

“Or maybe up his pussy,” Ligur noted as Hastur’s hand slid down Gabriel’s chest and wrapped around Gabriel’s cock.

“Your choice, of course,” Hastur said as she stroked. And for reasons he couldn’t begin to parse, Gabriel found that one of the sweetest things he’d ever heard.

Not that what the dukes had just said wasn’t horrifying and disgusting, of course.

“Maybe other things too,” Hastur continued, her hand moving faster, and he shouldn’t have—definitely not, given what she was saying—but Gabriel was well on his way to another erection. “Ever wanted to be fucked with tentacles, pet?”

“With more eldritch things than tentacles?”

“I….” How did you even begin to answer that?

“Well, that’s what you’ll get. All the time. Whenever we want it. And me and him? We’ll want it _all the time_.”

It wasn’t something he should think about—at least, not with anything that wasn’t with absolute revulsion. But in his mind, there he was: Locked in a cage. Hands and knees. Naked. Collared. Boun. A thing to be taken turns with. A thing to be fucked and slapped and fucked some more. By Hastur. By Ligur. By Hastur again.

Maybe by more of them.

Maybe by so many demonst he’d lose count after a while.

That he wouldn’t even be able to think.

“Yes,” Hastur whispered, her hand working faster. “Yes, you like that, don’t you? You like it a _lot_.”

“I heard that angels weren’t supposed to like want that kind of thing.” Ligur’s hand wrapped around Hastur’s, and the movements got faster, harsher.

“Oh, but we know our angel’s not so pure.”

Gabriel moaned as Hastur bit his neck.

“Definitely not so pure.”

“Bet you’d love us to stick you in a cage, wouldn’t you?” When Gabriel’s breath hitched, Hastur giggled in triumph. “Yeah, can almost hear you thinking about it. Sucking my fella through the bars, hm? Having us take you out whenever we want.”

“Fuck you ’til you’re a mess—”

“Spank you ’til you scream—”

“Put you back before you want us to. Ignore you when you cry and beg for more, even when you look so pretty.”

“Bet you’ll even lose this war on purpose, you want it so bad.”

“No,” Gabriel insisted, “that’s crazy! You’re both cr—”

“Bet you’ll love it when we whore you out to anyone we choose.” Hastur’s breath caught on the last few words.

“Like a reward for bad behavior. Or like one of those party-favor things, maybe.”

“No, I—”

But then Ligur kissed him hard enough to leave bruises, and Gabriel was coming all over their hands.

“That’s what I thought,” Hastur whispered when Gabriel’s keening quieted, her voice triumphant.

Gabriel wanted to protest, but his body just felt … he wasn’t sure how to describe it, other than it felt like he’d been discorporated and shoved back into a form he’d never worn before. A form that felt both too big and too small at the same time; one that couldn’t want anything but hands and mouths and cocks and pussies and cages and chains and—

He couldn’t come anymore. He wanted to. But he couldn’t because—

There was that darkness again.

And it was so warm and deep and still that Gabriel tumbled over the edge of it with a happy sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel was curled up between them, back tucked against Hastur’s chest, one arm draped over Ligur’s side, the other tucked around his shoulders. As if he couldn’t decide which one of them he wanted more.

“Think we broke him?” Hastur asked as she peered over Gabriel’s shoulder at her partner. Her black eyes were large and bright, like the polished carapaces beetle.

“You’d love it if we had, wouldn’t you?” he teased.

Her smile was sharper and toothier than it should have been in a corporation like this. That made it all the sexier.

“Yeah,” Hastur agreed. “But, too bad for us, I think he’s just asleep. Two times in one night!” Her pout was playful as she slid out from behind Gabriel, then patted his hip. When the archangel only murmured incoherently before cuddling closer to Ligur, her pout turned into a frustrated little moue.

“Didn’t even get to share a cigarette with us,” she said as she retrieved her mackintosh from where Ligur had draped it over a chair—making sure, of course, to bend down slowly with her legs just slightly apart, exposing her pale folds to him.

Fuck, he could never get enough of that hot little snatch. Could never get enough of _her_.

After taking a painfully long time to locate her cigarettes, Hastur selected one and straightened up, lit it with the swipe a fingertip, and glided back to bed, hips twitching, chest out, just like those humans they’d seen on telly who were showing off fancy clothes, or whatever they were doing on those little platform-things.

Gabriel could probably explain exactly what they were doing, clothes being his thing. But for now, the archangel just wriggled back against Hastur with another of those soft little murmurs. He didn’t even wake up when Hastur leaned over him to breathe the smoke into Ligur’s mouth.

“Think he liked paying us this time?” she teased before handing the cigarette to Ligur.

“More than he’ll ever let on,” he said after giving the smoke back to her, along with the cigarette.

“Think he’ll really like it if we win, and we get to do that to him every day?”

“More than he’d ever let on, too.”

That softened her worried little frown. “Yeah,” she agreed as it turned into a smile.

“Yeah,” Ligur assured before they shared another smokey kiss. The soft sound of little feet on the thick carpet made them both look toward the bathroom, where their familiars were padding—or in the case of Hastur’s frog, hopping—back out to join them.

“Always so polite,” Hastur said as hers hopped up onto the bed in a strangely catlike move. “Thanks, old girl.”

The frog let out a pleased little croak before hopping up onto Hastur’s bald, wart-lined head and settling there.

“Thank you too,” Ligur said as his chameleon scuttled up his shoulders and settled in his hair before coiling his tail around Ligur’s neck. He was a soft, pleased green—just like he and his master’s eyes always were after Ligur had made love to his partner—or fucked her, or teased her, or, well … just looked at her with lust or longing.

He was a good sort, just like Hastur’s little friend, who was staring at both Ligur and his familiar with contentment.

He and Hastur passed several more breaths between them before the cigarette burned down to the filter, and she ground it out against the headboard.

“Yeah. Looks pretty when he sleeps. Almost like he’s not a raging arsehole.” She trailed her fingers through the archangel’s rumpled hair for a while. Her expression reminded Ligur just a little bit of the one she’d had when they handed off the antichrist to Crowley. Well. Not exactly, given how different both situations were. But it had the same … wistfulness, maybe you’d call it.

“What’s my pretty girl thinkin’?” he asked after a while.

“Just that … well. You liked him, didn’t you?”

“It’s all right, you know. Wanting the boss to really do what you said.”

Hastur nodded. “It’s just, you know. After a few centuries of this….” She waved her hand at Gabriel as if dismissing him. But Ligur knew.

“You get attached.” Ligur leaned over Gabriel’s sleeping form and took her chin, pulling her into a kiss that tasted less of smoke this time and more of Hastur—of the dark, complicated creature that she was. The dark, complicated creature he’d always loved more than anything in creation.

“Yes.” And then, just as quick as it’d arrived, that wistful look vanished into a truly devilish grin.

“But. Not enough to just let him go that easy. I promised you a good lurk around Sin City, handsome. And I don’t break my promises to you.”

She never had. And of course she never would.

Hastur shimmied away from Gabriel and turned down a corner of the bedspread. Like the rest of the bed, it’d been a dusty, stale-smelling mess with suspicious stains when she and Ligur had entered the room. But a snap of her fingers had made it … well, not pristine, but clean enough so as not to look suspiciously out of place.

That was his bird for you. Subtle when she wanted to be.

She didn’t even need to ask; Ligur lifted the sleeping archangel and carried him around the foot of the bed as Hastur pulled the comforter back even farther, taking the sheet with it. He settled Gabriel down and wrapped him up in it before running a finger along the curve of his jaw.

“You’re not the only one that’s a bit attached, you know,” he said, turning to look at her.

“Yeah, big sook that you are.”

When their kisses got too heated, Ligur pulled back far enough to whisper against her lips: “You said we’d go for a lurk. But I say, not until you’ve given me one of those lap dances we saw at that one place. And not until you ride my dick so hard you scream down this shitty little place.”

Hastur’s white pupils were usually just pinpricks in her vast, dark eyes. But they widened to the size of silver coins just before she pounced on him.

She rode his dick a good three times before they got dressed and headed off, hand in hand, for a good lurk—and, if the humans in this city were unlucky enough, to snag more than a few unfortunate souls to add to their master’s kingdom.

But not before they gave Gabriel one last little gift.


	4. Chapter 4

The darkness eddied and flowed around him, warm and deep. Discorporation? Maybe. Gabriel drifted along on it anyway.

Just a little more time….

_(Knock knock.)_

Just a little more….

_(Thump. Thump.)_

_Hng. Go away._

“Hey!”

_(Rap rap rap rap rap rap.)_

“Mister?”

_Oh fuck off._

A steady pounding now.

“You in there?”

The darkness was lifting.

“Yes?” he murmured as his eyes opened. He wanted to fall back into that nice dark place, but the pounding was louder now.

“Hello?” someone asked.

The present resolved around him. A dingy little room and—

_Damn it to hell. I fell asleep again, didn’t I?_

_Oh fuck. Fuck! How long have I been out_ this _time?_

Gabriel tried to sit up, but something dragged him back, held him there.

“Hastur? Hastur, let go, damn it!”

No answer.

Just that pounding.

“Hel-lo? Oh come _on_.”

The door in the corner bounced as something thudded against it. But the lock held.

“I’m in—yes?” He tugged again; again, he couldn’t move his arms. “Damn it, you two! Stop fucking around and let m—”

Silence again, except for the swearing outside the door and the thud-thud-thudding of what must’ve been a steel-toed boot against the wood. Gabriel tried to tug out of their grip again, but the pressure on his wrists was way too hard to be anyone’s hands—even those of a duke of hell. In fact, whatever had him in its hold felt like metal.

No, Gabriel realized as he tilted his head up for a closer inspection. It was metal.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake!”

The posts on the headboard weren’t flush with the rest of it. Some human idiot had decided it would just look so _cool_ if they carved out a space between the two, making it just the peachiest place _ever_ for two assholes to pass a chain through it so they could lock someone’s hands around the post.

Hopefully, that human was rotting in hell, or would be very soon.

“Mister, if you don’t open this goddamn door right now, I’m calling the police!”

That voice sounded familiar. The human at the desk last night. What were they—

“Checkout time was _three hours ago_ , and do you think that weird hooker paid? Or her weird pimp, or fuckbuddy, or hooker friend or whoever the hell he was?”

 _Well, at least they got the hell part right_ , Gabriel thought bitterly as he tugged at the chain, trying to yank it through the post.

“So if you don’t pay and don’t open this door right now—”

“Um,” Gabriel said, tugging at the restraint again. “Just, um, give me a sec and I’ll—”

“Look, the only reason I’m not unlocking this door right now is because I don’t want to see just how bad you and those two freaks trashed the place. Or how they trashed you. God knows, I could write a fucking fifteen-book _series_ on the shit I’ve seen here and no one would believe it. But my soul is dead now, so whatever.”

Before Gabriel could miracle out of the cuffs, back into his clothes, and back up to heaven, the doorknob rattled with the turn of a key and the door was shoved open.

The clerk stepped into the room and regarded him for a moment, their expression unreadable.

“Yeah, okay. Not the worst I’ve seen. Not even close. I mean, at least they covered you up. Though, frankly”—their expression turned lustful—“if they hadn’t, that would’ve made today almost worth coming to work for.”

“Oh, cut it out,” Gabriel snapped. “Perverts go to hell, you know,” he added, right before realizing just how stupid that sounded.

The clerk’s lustful look turned deadpan. They snorted. “Well, at least that’s not the dumbest, most hypocritical thing I’ve ever heard a reverend say. Or a priest. Or whatever you are.” They sighed and headed for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the bolt cutters. Yes, I keep them on hand just for this bullshit.”

They slammed the door behind them, and Gabriel miracled away the cuffs and threw the blanket and sheets off before swinging up onto his feet. Grumbling every obscenity he could think of—at least, the ones that didn’t involve the Lord’s name—he miracled on his clothes after fixing the tears in his suit jacket. Which Hastur was going to damn well pay for, one way or another.

He was just about to leap back up into heaven when he noticed a piece of white paper on the bed. Someone had scribbled on it. As he picked it up, he recognized Ligur’s handwriting, which was far too tidy and elegant to belong to a demon. Not that that wasn’t a good thing, because Hastur’s was usually just a bunch of scribbles that you could barely make out.

_Had a good time last night, both of us. She’ll have some hot and spicy new intel for you soon. Hope you liked the little treat we left you._

He’d signed his name in English with a little heart over the _i_. Hastur had just signed it with her sigil. It kind of looked like a smiling face if you turned it the right way. Which was….

If he hadn’t wanted to kick her in the shins, it would’ve almost been cute.

 _P.S._ Hastur had written at the bottom of the note. _Pay for the room. Clerk’s such a sarky little shit that we don’t want them down here. Paying them might just put them on the straight and narrow so they’ll be your problem._

 _Well, that would’ve been actually_ helpful, Gabriel fumed, _if you’d told me what to pay_ with _._

Usually Sandalphon handled the money whenever they and Gabriel went to earth for some shopping, or checking on field agents, or whatever they had to do that day. And it was hardly ever American money, which Gabriel suspected was a different kind of money than what they used in London, or Paris, or Milan, or New York, or any other place where humans had Fashion Weeks.

But the clerk would be back any moment now, and he didn’t want to have to either explain how he’d gotten out of the cuffs or miracle away their memories of seeing him chained to the bed. That was always fucking messy business and Michael always frowned at him when he handed in the documentation.

 _Well, a room like this has to be at least worth three hundred somethings, right? Dollars! Yeah. That’s it._ They were green and usually had some jackass or another on them, so Gabriel made it easy by miracling up a three-hundred–dollar bill and putting the face of the last president he remembered on it, like humans did with all their money. What had been that person’s name? Andrew Grant or something? Well, at least the face looked okay.

He could hear the clerk tromping down the sidewalk that led to the room, muttering a bunch of blasphemies. That meant it was way past time to go. So with one last look around him, Gabriel jumped into the air and let a burst of holy light carry him back to heaven.

Until the next time he needed to answer a call from hell.

And given how little time they had left before Armageddon, he hoped—against his better judgment, of course—that those calls wouldn’t be _too_ far apart.


End file.
